Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [13]
“Have you always been—” He fought for a description that the thing could comprehend. “—the way you are now?” he said at last.
Again there was no response, and Treves wondered if he had taken too much for granted. Perhaps it was beyond whatever existed in that huge head to discern the difference between himself and other people, in which case a phrase like “the way you are now” had no meaning for him.
“Are you in any pain?” he asked.
This time there was a reaction, violent and startling. The creature began to babble in a series of staccato gulps, punctuated by wheezes. Through the tiny slit in the face mask a stream of desperation and distress seemed to flow. Alarmed, Treves interrupted.
“No—just nod your head like this for ‘yes’ and shake it like this for ‘no.’ ” He demonstrated slowly. “Now, are you in any pain?”
This time there was no babble, just a slow shake of the head.
“Are your parents still alive?”
Immobile silence. The thing before him might have been a block of wood. It was exasperating when he had thought he was beginning to get through.
“Do you understand? Are they dead? Your father …” He waited a long time. “Your mother.”
At once a desolate moan filled the room and the Elephant Man began to rock back and forth as if in agony. From behind the mask came sounds that might have been someone trying to weep, but unable to.
Treves stared at him, feeling desperately uncomfortable. But he was saved from having to offer some response by two sharp raps on the door. The Elephant Man flinched perceptibly.
Fox’s head appeared round the door.
“Freddie, what are you doing for—” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I say, do open a window in here or …” For the first time he noticed the Elephant Man. “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry. I had no idea that … I say!” His voice died away in embarrassment.
Treves crossed the room in two strides, seized Fox by the arm, and bundled him forcibly into the corridor, closing the door behind them. Fox blew out hard.
“Good Lord, Freddie, what have you got in there?”
“You’ll know presently. At the meeting of the society. But until then, I beg of you, Fox, keep it to yourself.”
“Certainly, if you insist. You must have quite a find there.”
“I don’t know what I’ve got.”
Fox gave him a cynical glance. “Nothing of any importance, eh?” he repeated.
Treves turned to re-enter his office but looked back at the last minute.
“Keep it to yourself, Fox, please.” He went in and shut the door firmly behind him, turning the key in the lock. Then his eyes swept the room in dismay. The Elephant Man had gone.
It was impossible. There was no way out except by the door—unless the wretched creature had contrived to throw himself out of the window. For a terrible moment he half believed it, then a faint movement caught his attention and he breathed again.
In a far corner stood a glass display case filled with specimens, each one neatly labeled. There was just enough space between the end of the case and the wall for a man to stand, and there he was. Even through the enveloping cloak Treves could see that he was shaking.
“Come and sit down,” he said gently.
The Elephant Man’s only reply was to press himself further back against the wall as though he would vanish into it. To the stench of his body was added that of his terror.
For a moment Treves wondered if it was all worth it; wouldn’t it be better if he simply packed this thing up into a cab and returned him to where he came from? But the meeting of the Pathological Society of London was only two weeks away and he had nothing better than this to introduce. Nor would anyone else have.
He went to stand in front of the man, taking the left hand firmly in his own. Slowly and without wrenching him, he drew him away from the wall until they had reached the chair.
“Sit down,” he said, keeping his voice quiet and friendly. He had seen enough the night before to be certain that whatever the original state of Merrick’s mind he must